


Mullet And A Red Cat

by restingpidgeface (Arlene0401)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Background Relationships, Brief Mention of Violence, Brief mention of homophobia, Cat Blue, Cat Red, Dog Laika, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Human Rolo, Human Shay (Voltron), Human Vrepit Sal, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Some angst, background Katie/Allura, background Shay/Hunk - Freeform, eventual Keith/Lance/Shiro, human Kaltenecker, past keith/lance, present Lance/Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlene0401/pseuds/restingpidgeface
Summary: Keith thinks his life is okay. Not great, but okay.Well, okay-ish.... Okay, it sucks. A lot.Until his highschool sweetheart Lance comes crashing back into his life, with his new boyfriend Shiro and his cat in tow. Long suppressed memories resurface and new feelings come to bloom, two cats fall in love, and kimchi proves to be a public safety hazard...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would never ever ever managed to finish this without the relentless help and support of my lovely friend and beta [shulkie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shulkie/pseuds/shulkie) ([perksofbeingawaifu on tumblr](http://perksofbeingawaifu.tumblr.com/)). What you did for me, love, went way past anything any beta should ever have to put up with, and I'm eternally grateful.  
> This big bang fic also wouldn't have been possible without the amazing artist [boredbeingregular](https://boredbeingregular.tumblr.com/)! Your screming at my wip kept me going, and you brought human Shay to life!  
> Thank you [choked-cherry](https://choked-cherry.tumblr.com/) for sharing your thoughts and input on Shay as a character with me.  
> [kiokushitaka](http://kiokushitaka.tumblr.com/) and [baenaby-brooksjr](http://baenaby-brooksjr.tumblr.com/) helped me a lot with Lance's background and the last chapter shenanigans.  
> [sugarplum-senpai](http://sugarplum-senpai.tumblr.com/) may have long forgotten it, but helped me out when I was stuck in an angst hole right at the start and nearly dropped the whole thing.  
> My name may be listed as author, but an author rarely creates in a bubble. There are so many people whose help, big or small, is essential to the eventual launching of a work. I have been working on this fic for seven months, which is the longest time I have ever devoted to a single fic, and the whole ride has been an adventure. Thank you all, everybody, who put up wth my whining and rambling. This one's for you.

Keith heaved the last bag of dog food into the shelf and stretched his aching back. If only all people kept cats his job would be a lot easier. Wait - cats needed litter. Litter that came in huge, back-breaking, arm-straining bags. 

If all people kept goldfish and guinea pigs, his job would be a lot easier.

The old-fashioned bell above the door announced a customer. Keith wiped the hands on his apron and put on his customer service smile while he approached the counter, as frequently requested by his boss. Having practised it for many years, he was capable of pulling his mouth into something that was _technically_ a smile while at the same time communicating the whole amount of his boredom, annoyance or contempt, whichever applied. 

The woman who had entered the shop sported a pricy attire, a nose way too narrow and lips way too plush to be natural, and a shivering furry something wedged into her shoulder bag. The thing let out a high-pitched growl and started yapping hysterically as he approached.

“Dame Portia needs a new harness,” the woman announced before Keith could even greet her, and held up a ripped harness accusingly. It was made of thin leather straps, dyed pink-metallic, and Keith could make out a not-so-discreet tag of a well-known and expensive designer label.

“Certainly, ma’am,” Keith said and led the way to the shelf with leashes, collars and harnesses. The woman pulled the corners of her mouth down in distaste at the comparatively unstylish selection. Even without her telling him, Keith knew that his shop was definitely below her standards and that she had only come in because she was in the area. Even so, he reminded himself to stay civil and showed her the harnesses available in Dame Portia’s size. After a lot of querying and borderline rudeness she decided on a natural tan leather harness that was not only ten times more durable than the flimsy thing she dropped in the waste basket, but ten times cheaper too.

As she left the shop with a curt nod, Keith rubbed his arm where the tiny hellhound had nipped him in passing (her owner had not apologized). Damn Porsche. Not for the first time he wondered if he should quit. Maybe he could find a proper blue collar job. But he already knew he wouldn’t do it. His life was an endless row of shitty part time jobs, but he could never work up the motivation to change anything. His present and future were a void that held neither happiness nor love anyway, why bother? Nothing would change the black abyss of loneliness.

He glanced at his watch and groaned. Still one more hour to go before he could take his shitty scooter back home for a short break between his shitty daytime job and his shitty nighttime job. In the evenings, he delivered pizza, and the wage was just enough to pay for all the laundry detergent needed to get the cheese and garlic smell out of his clothes. He leaned with his elbows on the counter and propped his chin on his hands.

The bell chiming again interrupted his bleak thoughts. “Good afternoon, what can I do for-”

A man walked in, eyes scanning the shop before they found him, and Keith felt his mouth drop open and his brains fall through the bottom of his skull.

Impossible. It was impossible.

But here he was, right in front of Keith. His high school sweetheart. Lance.

Lance, looking even more beautiful than ten years ago. He wore an eye catching suit in light cyan blue with matching shoes and tie, his haircut was slightly longer and softer, complementing his narrow face and slender neck. Right now, he looked just as shocked as Keith, but his face was already transforming into a hesitant smile. Before it could turn into a full and dangerous bloom, Keith interrupted.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well.” Lance’s features wilted into something close to a frown. “Buying pet supplies?”

Keith crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh. I moved back. I hope it’s not illegal to return to your home town?”

“No.” Keith bit his lip and tried to summon his professional voice. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Lance blinked, taken aback by the sudden turn. “Right. Erm. The movers misplaced all the stuff for Blue, so I need all the basic equipment until it turns up again.”

“And Blue is, what? A dog? Hamster?” Keith leaned his hip against the counter. “Boa constrictor, perhaps?”

Lance seemed to slowly catch up with him. “She’s a cat. So, yeah, I need cat food, bowls, a litter box, you name it.”

Keith led him through the maze of shelves, indicated to the required items, asked for favorite brands, work mode soothing his frazzled nerves at least a little. Lance seemed impressed with the selection, and in addition purchased some toys, treats and a pink fluffy bed that he apparently couldn’t resist. 

“We have the bed in blue as well, if you like.”

“No, this is perfect. She loves pink. And she’ll look so pretty in it.” For the first time, Lance _did_ smile then, rambling about his cat and running his hands over the soft fabric. Keith didn’t listen, too caught up in staring while the other man was distracted.

Although changed and matured by ten years, Lance looked so achingly familiar, from the dark blue eyes that stood out strikingly from his tanned face to the toothy smile. The way he inclined his head when he listened. The small unruly cowlick at the crown of Lance’s head that resisted all attempts of grooming. He carried himself with more confidence, more natural grace - gone was the fowl-like gaucheness that made him appear as if he consisted mostly of knees and elbows. 

Lance turned his head and directed the smile at Keith, and just like he had feared, he was caught in it like a deer in the headlights of an approaching car.

“I figured I’d see you sooner or later once I came back, but I never thought it would literally be before I even unpacked a single box. What a funny coincidence.”

Keith reached up to rub his neck and twirl one of the longer strands at the back of his head, a nervous gesture he hadn’t had to resort to for a very long time.

“Well, it’s a small town. You can’t really avoid bumping into each other.”

“What about our classmates? Do you sometimes see them?”

He shrugged. “Shall we… do you need a cat harness and leash too?”

Lance blinked, again thrown off track by Keith changing the topic.

“Uh, no, I had a set with me in the car, thanks. Actually I think that would be all for now.”

After he had paid Lance sweet talked Keith into helping him carry the purchases to his car - a white Nissan Leaf, of all things, which was so fucking _Lance_ that Keith didn’t even try to suppress his sneer. Closing the bonnet, Lance looked as if he wanted to say something more, but with a curt nod and a, “Well, see you around, maybe,” Keith was back into the shop.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He had thought he was over it, or rather, he had refused to think about it. He had shoved the past way back down and locked the door - double locked, padlocked, _deadbolted_ it, vowing never to look back at what had once been his. But this one brief encounter was enough to tell him that he was so fucking not over it, never had been, and all the ache and pain he had suppressed for the better part of a decade crashed over him like a tsunami.

In a daze, Keith fumbled his way through the remaining rituals of his workday, his hands and body acting on autopilot. He drove back home on his protesting scooter, pleading the vehicle, like every day, to hold on just a little longer. Not that he would be able to have it repaired the next day, or next week, or even next month. If the thing broke down, Keith would be down to his feet, and lose his nighttime job.

“Keith, is that you? There’s some tempura in the kitchen, and Hunk prepared a curry,” his roommate’s voice drifted from her room as he hung up his keys and kicked off his shoes. “I can heat it up for you if you want - Christ, Keith, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Katie had appeared in her doorway, pushing up the glasses on her nose and regarding him with mild concern.

He debated whether he should tell her or not - but this was Katie, after all, she would find out soon anyway.

“Lance is back in town,” he said simply.

“Oh. She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. “Wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll heat my food up myself, Katie. There’s no point in showering before work, I’ll just end up reeking of pizza and grease anyway.”

“Alright.” Katie headed back into her room, only dimly illuminated by the glow of several computer screens. He suspected she was secretly glad he had declined the offer to talk - Katie was a good roommate and person, but human interaction was not her forte.

Keith put a serving of curry into the microwave oven and nibbled on some tempura while he waited. Like everything Hunk produced, it was delicious, and despite his stressed-out state Keith felt positively ravenous.

A hoarse ‘mrow’ caught his attention, and he turned to find Red slinking into the kitchen. “Hello there, kitty. You hungry?” Red blinked at him owlishly and split his face into a yawn that showed all his five remaining teeth. If there was a cat in the world where the endearment “kitty” was totally inappropriate, it was Red. He was a huge, scraggy ginger tabby, with scarred ears and a mean claw. His purr - if he did purr at all - was a rusty chainsaw and his meow a dying donkey. He was partly deaf and therefore always screamed at top volume. When he intended to give a friendly head-butt, he left bruises. Hunk insisted that Red was indeed an undersized tiger. No one knew how old he was, although anyone’s guess leaned towards “ancient”. Some years ago, he had sat on a dumpster behind a shabby sandwich joint where Keith worked at the time. Keith had addressed him as “good kitty” and scratched his ear when he passed him on his way home, and Red had gotten up, arched his back and followed him. He had waited patiently outside the apartment building, for a full week, until Keith gave up and held the door for him.

Red had never set a paw outside ever since.

Now, as he looked down on his feline companion, Keith remembered Lance talking about his cat. What did he say the name was? Blue. In spite of himself, Keith smiled. He crouched and snapped his fingers. “Come here, kitty.” Red approached him and sneezed, spraying him with snot.

“Ew, Red. Excuse you.” Keith wiped his hand on his jeans. “You’re not falling sick on me, buddy, are you?” Red wheezed out a meow and sneezed again. Keith scratched his listless fur for a moment, but a glance at his watch reminded him he had to eat and get moving. He spooned some cat food into Red’s bowl and mashed it with a little addition of water so he could eat it more easily, filled his own stomach with piping hot curry and set off again.

‘Peppo’s Pizza’ was neither top-notch nor roach-riddled, but set somewhere in the middle of the range. Keith loathed his job there - he couldn’t figure why anyone would feel the need to be shitty to someone who brings you warm food into the comfort of your own home, while all you have to do in return is pick up your phone, cough up some dollars and put on some pants. Or at least sweatpants. Hell, even a _towel_ would do. You didn’t have to refuse them a tip, yell profanities at them, throw the pizza carton at them or let your dog chase them off your property.

The first half of his shift on this day however ran smoothly and without any incidents that made him want to punch a wall. Then he got to deliver a large tuna with double cheese and two servings of tiramisu. He frowned when he looked at the address. It was in the shopping district, but the name of the shop he’d never heard: ‘Scrumptious & Sumptuous’. 

“Are you sure this is right?”, he asked his boss. 

Sal shrugged and rearranged his grubby headband. “Must be new. Now better get your scruffy ass moving before they gripe for getting cold food.”

The phone rang, and yet again Keith listened to his boss’s transformation with contempt.

“Peppo’s Pizza, buonasera,” he trilled. “Ah, signore Iverson, what a pleasure! Si, si… una grande pizza quattro stagione, una insalata mista. It be there in thirty minutes, si? … Naturalmente, signor. Arrivederci!”

Then he turned around and snapped the order at the cook. “One quattro, one mista, get to it!”

“Yo, boss man,” Rolo grunted, unimpressed. He was a strange guy, cooked and fried and baked with great skill and speed, always with a vacant half-smile. His mood was never dented by Sal’s verbal abuse. Keith had the creepy feeling that one of these days Sal would wake up with an axe in his head - in his experience the quiet types were always the ones you had to keep an eye on.

It was a miracle how _Keith_ had managed so far without pinning the man’s ear to the wall with a kitchen knife. Every time he heard his bleating Keith imagined slathering the patronizing git in his “home-made” tomato sauce (which was just sieved tomato and some spices) and stuffing him into his goddamn pizza oven. 

Keith grabbed the thermo box and rolled his eyes to Rolo, who in turn gave a minimal nod and an even more minimal upward twist of his mouth, and headed out to his scooter.

The shop windows were hung with heavy drapes, a sign announcing: “Opening soon!” A single mannequin was placed in the display, dressed in a simple yet elegant summer dress. Through a narrow gap in the drapes Keith could see the lights were on, and he retrieved the pizza and dessert from the carrier and opened the door.

Inside, he faced the common chaos of a shop in the middle of setup. The walls were freshly painted and lined with shelves and clothes racks, the floor was taken up by a maze of more racks, boxes and mannequins. A professional ironing board was set up, and a radio blared in the background.

No one was there. Only a very small, silvery-grey cat with bright green eyes that sat on the counter like a statue and lazily blinked at the intruder.

“Hello? Your delivery from Peppo’s!”

“Right with you,” a male voice came from a back room, and around the corner a tall figure emerged, a man with a eye-catching white streak in his black hair, clad in chinos and a t-shirt that looked slightly rumpled and dusty from work.

Keith knew exactly where and when the man had gotten the white strand of hair, as well as the scar across his nose, and he couldn’t look at it without guilt washing over him. 

Keith felt his mouth drop open for the second time in a day. “Shiro… you… I thought you studied veterinary medicine?”, was the first thing that left it.

“Keith? What a lovely surprise! It’s good to see you again,” Shiro managed when he had recovered from the shock. Then his brain caught up with Keith’s question. “Oh, well I did. Become a vet, that is. I’m helping my boyfriend with his business.”

_Boyfriend, huh. I wonder who…_

“Hello, Keith! Fancy seeing you so soon again.”

_Well, fuck._

Lance came out of the back room, now in faded jeans and t-shirt that were both far too tight for Keith’s sanity.

“So… this is your shop?” 

Lance beamed. “Yep. Fashion for ladies with curves.”

That figured. Lance had always been a distinctive admirer of the female form. 

Keith placed the pizza carton on the counter. The cat shifted a little to the side and gave him a dirty look.

“So, I take it this is Blue? Very creative name.”

Lance chuckled, picked up the cat and nuzzled her. “Yeah, I know. She’s a Russian Blue, and the breeder gave her some unpronounceable name, and somehow Blue was the best I came up with.”

“I have a cat named Red,” Keith blurted out and instantly wanted to kick himself. He wasn’t here to make small talk. Small talk with his ex-boyfriend and the ex-boyfriend’s new boyfriend, to be precise.

“Oh, really? You listened to me babbling about Blue the entire time and never mentioned it. And let me guess,” Lance grinned, “Red is not a tuxedo.”

“My brain wasn’t really working earlier. And yes, he’s a ginger tabby. It’s okay to roll your eyes. I know.” Keith dropped his gaze from Lance and the cat to the pizza carton, which was far less dangerous territory. Pizza… pizza… wasn’t he supposed to be doing something?

“Oh, right! Uh, that’ll be 16 dollars please. I need to get back or Sal will chew me out.”

Shiro cocked an eyebrow. “Sal? Isn’t the place called Peppo’s Pizza?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Maybe you can share it with us another time,” Shiro said with a warm smile as he handed Keith the money and a very generous tip.

He bit his lip. “Yeah. Maybe.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION:  
> This chapter contains a brief scene of homophobia and violence. The section is between two lines of stars *********** You can skip it if you want, it is not essential to understanding the rest of the fic.

Keith didn’t get the leisure to ponder over this day for some more hours, and when he got home he was physically and mentally exhausted. Hunk had just returned home from his job as chef at a restaurant and brought his girlfriend Shay along. Katie and Shay sat in the lounge with a bowl of popcorn,trying to agree on a movie to watch, while Hunk dug through the pantry in search of wine. He glanced up when he heard Keith coming in.

“Dude, you look rough. Wanna hang out with us a little?”  
So Katie had apparently filled him in on the Lance situation.

Keith considered his options. He didn’t feel like socializing right now, but if he locked himself up in his room he’d be climbing the walls anyway. So he snatched some glasses from one of the cupboards while Hunk wrestled with the bottle opener.

The sitting arrangements during their movie marathons were always the same - Katie would take the armchair and hog as many throw pillows and blankets as possible. Hunk and Shay would take the sofa that groaned under their combined weight - Hunk was big already, but Shay was bigger still, a mountain of a woman. Keith would usually flop on the carpet or sit in front of the sofa.

“Hey Keith, how are you doing?”, Katie greeted him quietly.

Keith placed the glasses on the coffee table, dug a hand into the popcorn bowl and sat down cross-legged with his back to the sofa.

“Been a long day. I’m glad I only have one shift at the pizzeria tomorrow.”

He munched his popcorn and waited until Hunk had followed and settled down, pulling Shay’s feet in his lap.

Then he added, “Lance is not the only one who’s back in town. Shiro’s here, too.” A tick of silence. “They’re together.”

“Oh,” said Hunk. 

“Well, shit,” said Katie.

“Who’s that?”, Shay asked, and Hunk quickly muttered something about explaining to her later. 

She made a sympathetic noise, and a moment later Keith felt her fingers in his hair, soothingly rubbing his scalp. Almost on instinct, he leaned his head back into the touch. When Hunk had started seeing Shay, Keith had been a little weirded out by her, since he wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of person. But he had to admit that her silent consoling smoothed down his ruffled feathers like few other things could. When Shay touched someone, it was like she understood you without a word. Like she could pass a little of her quiet strength through her fingertips. 

Katie flicked to an absolutely inane seventies sci-fi movie. It had been a bit of an embarrassing surprise that they were all into cringe-worthy atrocities, but after the first mutual Godzilla-marathon it was as if something had been set free. Now they regularly indulged in killer robots, mutated piranhas and sparsely-clad muscle men. Tonight’s entertainment consisted of “The Iron Man”, definitely not to be confused with the Marvel universe hero. It was glorious - eye-searing costumes, wig disasters, poor stuntmen stuffed into ham-fisted robot suits and a dub cast that had no idea what they were doing.

Keith slowly felt the day’s tension seep out of him, and when Red settled in his lap the combined effects of the cat’s purring and Shay’s gentle scratching had his eyelids drooping. He dozed on and off and only jerked awake when the credits flickered over the screen.

Stretching and yawning, they cleared up the living room and retired to their rooms. In the hallway, Hunk laid a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“If you need someone to talk I’m there for you, buddy.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay. It’s just that…” He gnawed his lower lip and spat out the rest almost angrily. “I thought I did the right thing back then. But now I’m no longer sure. Maybe what I did was a terrible mistake.”

His friend nodded and parted with a last pat on his back.

Keith was glad he had agreed to watch the movie with his friends - he was now so tired he fumbled through his evening routine in a daze and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to see the sun already high up in the sky. He could always rely on Red as his alarm clock, but today the cat was only a heavy lump at his feet that snored loudly.

“Red. Hey buddy. What’s up with you?” Keith shook the cat gently, but his hands faltered when Red looked up at him miserably. His nose and eyes were crusted, and his breathing sounded wet and strained. His nose and ears were hot to the touch. A quick inspection in the kitchen proved that his bowl of yesterday’s food was untouched. Keith poured it away, refilled the bowl and took it to his room. But no coaxing could get Red to eat. He only lapped up some water.

Keith paced the room and pulled at his hair. Why did pets have to get sick when you were broke? Why did they have to get sick on a weekend? He didn’t remember if Dr. Slav’s practice was open on Sundays. If it wasn’t, he would have to find an animal hospital, where they wouldn’t know Red and him, and would probably be less generous in handling bills. Dr. Slav was pretty relaxed about them, because he knew sooner or later - mostly later - Keith would pay. But Keith had no choice. He had vowed to take care of Red, and leaving him untreated, even for a day, could easily mean the death for this old veteran. He sighed and thumbed through his phone directory for his vet’s number. 

He heard the dialing signal, then a clicking that indicated his call was forwarded. Then a tired female voice answered.

“Taujeer veterinary clinic.”

Keith described Red’s symptoms, and after shortly checking in with the doctor the receptionist told him that it would be best to come in right away.

Keith hung up and went to knock on Katie’s door. She opened immediately, wide awake and alert, and his guess was that she’d already been up and working for a while already.

“Morning, Katie. I’m sorry, but could I borrow your car? I have to take Red to the vet, and I don’t really want to put his box on the back of the scooter.”

“Oh dear, the poor darling. I noticed he was a little off yesterday, but I hoped it would pass. Should I give you a ride?”

“No thanks, I can drive myself. Red’s cool with cars. Looks like he has feline influenza.”

Katie swore. She had been a little hesitant to greet Red into their home, but over the years had grown fond of him and his quirks.

“Car key’s hanging on the holder. I think there should be enough gas in the tank.” She hesitated for a moment, then she offered: “If you need help with the vet bill…”

“I must take care of that myself, but thanks. I’m sure I can pay by installments. Dr. Slav has agreed to it in the past, and some of the bills were quite high.”

She nodded. “Okay. Good luck.”

Keith retrieved Red’s carrier from the top of his wardrobe, put some fluffy towels in and carefully placed the unprotesting cat inside. That alone had him worried. Red may be cool with car rides, but he hated his carrier with a passion, since it meant vet, and would not hesitate to voice his opinion and emphasize it with a claw or two. By the time he reached the practice Keith’s hands trembled. 

The front door was open, and when Keith walked in he was greeted by the receptionist. Ms. Kaltenecker had worked for Dr. Slav ever since Keith could remember. She was an ample lady with an untiring calmness, no matter how turbulent it got. 

She smiled and told Keith he could head straight to examination room number 1. He hesitated - something looked odd about her. Then he realized that she had put on makeup, replaced her plain white scrubs with rose-patterned ones and permed her hair. It definitely made her look better, but still he wondered about what the reason might be. Maybe a new love interest?

He went into the examination room, placed the carrier on the gleaming examination table and softly cooed to Red while they waited for Dr. Slav to show up.

A man showed up, but it was most definitely not Dr. Slav. He lacked the dark eye circles, the scrubby mustache, and instead sported a muscular frame and a dazzling white streak of hair. Keith felt like his stomach was plummeting through the floor. 

“What on earth are you doing in Dr. Slav’s clinic?”

“I. Um. I took over when he retired?”

At any other time, the sight of a hopelessly perplexed Shiro would have been priceless. But right now, Keith was too busy playing connect-the-dots. And wondering what exactly fate tried to tell him by permanently flinging Lance and Shiro his way.

“So, I guess I want to say this is my clinic now. And you… I suppose you’re one of my patients?”

“Ah, yes. I mean, Red is. Your patient, I mean.”

They stared at each other for another moment, then Shiro shook his head and smiled.

“This sure is a small town. I have to get used to just _how_ small again.”

He moved to the sink, washed his hands and dried them off with a paper towel. “Let’s take a look at this old gentleman, then,” he said.

He helped Keith drag Red out of his carrier, who had at last worked up enough nerves to offer some resistance. Once outside, though, he cowered low and tried to hide his head in Keith’s belly. With gentle but firm hands Shiro examined his eyes, ears and mouth, took his temperature and auscultated him, felt his abdomen, kidneys and neck. 

Keith admired how fluid the movements of Shiro’s artificial right arm and hand were. He didn’t know Shiro without a prosthetic, since he had lost his arm in an accident as a young child. But the heavy, clumsy models of former years bore no semblance to his new silicone hand.

“Your new prosthetic seems to work really well,” Keith remarked.

“Myoelectric,” Shiro replied, and Keith nodded as if he had a clue what that meant.

“I’m really happy with it, and it makes my work a lot easier for me. Although for anything that requires fine motoric skills I still have to rely on my left hand. But I’m used to it since my childhood.”

Shiro continued with the examination. “Overall he’s in good shape, only very very old,” he said finally. “You’re taking good care of him. Although he’s not vaccinated. You really should do that.”

“I could never afford vaccinations, and I thought they weren’t necessary since he lives indoors only and there are no other cats around.”

“Still, you and other humans carry infections too, as you see now. And other cats from outside can come to your window or balcony.”

Shiro took a small plastic tray and rifled through the cabinets.

“What we’ll do is give him an antiviral medication against the virus, and an antibiotic to prevent a secondary infection with bacteria,” he explained over his shoulder. “I’ll also give you something to clean his eyes with. Keep him warm and dry, and make sure he can rest properly. Try to get him to drink, and maybe eat a little. If he refuses, we’ll have to give him intravenous fluid and maybe feed him. But I hope that he’ll start to eat as soon as his nose clears up a little. Cats don’t eat when they can’t smell their food.”

Red was quickly treated and put back into his carrier. While Keith cooed to the sulking cat, Shiro typed away on his computer keyboard.

“So… about the bill… I can maybe pay five dollars a week…”

Shiro turned around, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. Arms that, Keith couldn’t help noticing, were a lot more muscular than back in highschool, even though Shiro had always been the athletic type. Keith did some mental calculations - Shiro had finished high school two years prior to himself, so they hadn’t met in twelve years. Those years had treated the man kindly, turning a handsome teen into a dazzling man, mature and charming. 

“I have a different proposition to make,” he said slowly but confidently, “one which may be beneficial to all parties.”

_All_ parties? Keith frowned but let Shiro continue. He wasn’t sure if, caught as he was by that quiet and appraising gaze, he would be able to interject anyway.

“Instead of weighing your budget down with five dollars every week for a very, _very_ long time, I want you to help prepare Lance’s shop for its grand opening.”

Keith gaped.

Then he gaped a little more.

Only when a slow grin started crawling over Shiro’s face he became aware that he was standing there open-mouthed like a goldfish, and that maybe an answer was expected. And he delivered it with eloquent aplomb.

“Wha?”

“There’s still a lot to do, and I need to be in the practice all week and can’t help him. You can work off your debt, Lance gets the help he needs and I have one less thing to worry about. A clear win-win situation.” Shiro looked very pleased with himself.

Keith’s hands flailed helplessly as he tried to form a coherent response.

“You… what? Do I get this right? You want me to help your boyfriend.”

Shiro nodded. “Exactly.”

“Your,” Keith put all emphasis on the next word, “boyfriend.” After a breath, he continued, “Who happens to be my ex-boyfriend.”

“Is that a problem for you? I mean, it was you who broke up with him, and that’s eight or nine years ago?”

Shiro looked more interested than bothered, and Keith could feel his face heat up.

“You don’t still have a _thing_ for your ex-boyfriend, do you?”

“Of course not, but - “

“I see. And here I thought I could count on you.” Disappointment laced Shiro’s voice, and he rubbed at the scar on his nose. Maybe the gesture was unconscious and coincidental, but it took Keith right back to the fateful day where Shiro had received the injuries that had marked him for life.

**********

He saw Lance and himself ambling down the sidewalk, very much in love and without a care in the world, walking past Shiro who they both in a quiet moment of sharing admitted having a crush on, walking past him and catching his smile - really and truly he was smiling at them, that slow smile that made the dimples in his face appear and crinkled his eyes, and they were both blindsided by it, too busy smiling back and possibly even winking at him to notice the trouble ahead. Then the sudden appearance of some asswipes who decided they were offended by two teenage boys holding hands, insults and pushing and shoving and Shiro miraculously coming to their rescue, trying to pour oil on troubled water, trying to get everybody out with nothing worse hurt than their egos, and out of nowhere the harsh gleam of sunlight on broken glass, and -

Keith blinked and shook his head, trying to get the horrible pictures out of his head. 

**********

“I’ll do it,” he said. 

The transformation in Shiro was amazing. He went from displeasure to practically oozing with gratitude in the blink of an eye that Keith was now sure he’d just been on the receiving end of Shiro’s persuasive guilt trip. Before he knew it, Shiro had arranged his entire schedule for the week. 

“I’m so happy we decided to come back to our hometown,” Shiro smiled at Keith as he quickly tidied everything up. “When I heard Dr. Slav was retiring and looking for a successor, I just _felt_ it was the right decision to grasp the opportunity. And everything worked in our favor - Lance found the ideal salesroom and set up a business plan in no time. It’s almost like a miracle.”

“The movers misplaced your stuff,” Keith reminded him.

Shiro waved dismissively. “Only a minor inconvenience. So far we live in the back room of the shop anyway, because there’s no way we could re-organize the practise to my liking, set up the shop and renovate a flat. It’s a little like camping, you know? Actually it’s kind of fun. And,” Shiro added with a boyish grin, “Lance got to meet you because he had to get stuff for Blue.”

“So Red falling sick is another lucky coincidence because you get to work an unpaid assistant to the bone. Great.”

“I wouldn’t be so heartless to say that. But I know that Lance was happy to see you again, despite everything that happened in the past, and something tells me that under other circumstances you would avoid our company at all cost.”

“You have a point there.” It sounded bitter. Because, fuck Shiro and his win-win situation, working with Lance would be hell.

As Keith made to leave the examination room, a thought crossed his mind. “How come Lance is running a fashion boutique? What happened to his law studies? Did he drop out of college?”

“He didn’t. But he… he changed majors. It was a hard time for him, especially since you -” Shiro broke off.

“Well, looks like you did a great job at being his shoulder to cry on,” Keith spat without thinking, hating himself the next second for the hurt look on Shiro’s face. After all, he himself had broken up with Lance, he couldn’t blame him for moving on. And he couldn’t blame him for moving on with someone he’d been crushing on for years. He couldn’t blame Shiro for loving Lance, too. Keith knew what it was like to love Lance, and be loved by him in return.

He turned away, chest filled with what felt like rusty nails. This wouldn’t do. He couldn’t let the past continue to haunt and affect him. Lance was happy, this was important, this was what counted. Keith wanted him happy. Now all Keith had to learn was bearing to _see_ Lance happy.

Right. No big deal.

He would start this learning process today. Right after he delivered Red back home and grabbed some lunch, he would help Lance until it was time for his pizza shift. Several hours of watching Lance sashay through his shop with stupid sparkling eyes, listening to him whistle happily off-tune and chatter about everything that crossed his mind in his stupid endearing way. If Keith could bear that without punching his own face he would call it a success.


	3. Chapter 3

Shay immediately took charge of Red, without Keith even having to ask. Red didn’t protest when she arranged him on her chest and wrapped him up with a blanket. With most other humans Red was about as cuddly as a porcupine, but when Shay handled him, he turned into a ragdoll. Animals seemed to just blindly trust her - a talent that had maybe helped her choose her career as a zookeeper. The cat snuggled up and instantly fell asleep, too exhausted from the shots and the stress of the vet visit to even play with her dangly hoop earrings or her braids like he usually did. 

Sometimes Keith feared he took advantage of her kindness - she was so soft-spoken and gentle that she seemed incapable of the simple word ‘no’. At one point, when she had yet again helped him out in building a climbing parcours for Red in his room, Keith had stuttered out that much, and she had listened with an amused smile.

“Being friendly to my fellow creatures doesn’t make me a doormat,” she had explained. “Don’t worry, I will always let you know if you cross any lines.” Then she had proceeded to show him her ‘get lost’ face, and it was… scary. Her harmonious features became stony, her eyes that shone so strikingly bright in contrast to her rich brown complexion grew cold. She reminded Keith of an ancient goddess, immovable as a boulder, larger than life, and he shrunk away from an unspoken threat.

Then she had laughed and slapped him on the back and set back to work with the screwdriver.

Now, Keith passed on Shiro’s instructions and thanked her, relieved that Red would be taken care of while he was away. He grabbed an apple, straddled his scooter and chugged off to “Scrumptious & Sumptuous”.

Assembling shelves and clothes racks, Keith decided half an hour later, was great at distracting you from the fact that you absolutely could not speak to the person you were assembling them with. You had to concentrate on not getting your fingers pinched or scattering screws all over the place. There weren’t many braincells idle enough to freak out because you had all the small talk ability of a moldy sandwich crumb under the fridge. 

Lance, too, seemed more moody and on edge than the day before. The instructions he gave Keith came out rather clipped, and if he did happen to talk it was mostly business mode - fashion lines, how awful the next fall collection was going to be, small events he was planning like moonlight-shopping or a fashion parade.

“If you happen to know any plus sized ladies who would be willing to model, send them in,” he said.

“No thanks, I don’t favor getting a kick in the face for suggesting that.”

“Oh right, I forgot I’m talking to Mr. Empathy.” Lance smiled, but there was an undertone in his voice that made Keith bristle.

“You want to say I’m rude or what?”

“No, not rude. Just terribly bad at communication.”

To be fair, Keith knew he probably deserved the blow. He also knew that Shiro would tear him to shreds if he blew a fuse at Lance and let him down, and who knew what would happen with Red and with his bill then.

He closed his eyes and took some slow breaths. _Focus. Think of Red. You’re doing this for him._

“Do you have tall sizes too? Hunk’s girlfriend may be interested. She has a hard time finding nice clothes, and mostly ends up in men’s shirts and pants.”

Lance looked confused for a moment, thrown off track by Keith not taking the bait and arguing back. Then he set back to work and nodded.

“Yeah, I have tall size fashion too. It’s a lot harder to get than plus size. So… Hunk’s got a girlfriend? You still see him?”

“We share an apartment, together with Katie.”

“Sounds nice. Say hi to them.”

“You could come around some time and see them in person,” Keith heard himself say. “I think they would be happy.”

“Yeah, maybe I should,” Lance said vaguely, and Keith guessed his reservation had less to do with Katie and Hunk and more with him living there.

They continued working in relative silence until it was time for Keith to get to the pizzeria.

Over the next days, Keith could often feel Lance’s eyes on him, contemplating and guarded. There was hurt in them, hurt that surpassed an old twinge of injured pride. It made Keith’s stomach churn with guilt and regret.

He would never have assumed that breaking up would affect Lance so deeply. Even after so many years, and with a new love interest, it was clear that he was still wounded. Keith was at a loss of what to do. He was awkward around people at best, and he was even worse at dealing with emotions. Besides, it wasn’t really his place to console Lance, was it? That job had fallen to Shiro.

Speaking of Shiro, he’d drop by every now and again, presumably on his break. He didn’t help much since he didn’t want his clothes to get dirty, but he entertained Blue, praised their work and found a million and one things to talk about. He inquired after Red’s health status, was satisfied that Keith treated him as advised, and requested that they show up for a final check by the end of the week. Keith agreed, although the thought of increasing his debt and doing even more jobs for Shiro, and possibly around Lance again, made him break out in cold sweat.

It wasn’t as if being around his ex boyfriend was a bad thing. The problem was that Keith _liked_ being around him. So much that more than once he considered falling to his knees and begging for forgiveness. Begging for an end to the silence and the hurt that stood between them. Not only for the sake of the love he had once held for a teenage Lance, but for the increasingly warm feelings he was developing towards the man that Lance had become. With so many years passing, what he saw was a kaleidoscope of the old and the new, the familiar and the changed sides of him. The passion and limitless energy that was now more focused and tempered, the humor that was still as juvenile as ten years ago. The telltale way he furrowed his brows when upset, and the new habit of twiddling the stud in his earlobe when deep in thought 

Intuitively, he felt that part of Lance’s conflict was that he _wanted_ Keith to reach out, _wanted_ to forgive in spite of himself. But what did Keith have speaking for him? Nothing, he thought. No success, no favorable character development. He was broke, jaded and bitter, and the best thing that had happened to him in the past ten years was that a stray cat had adopted him. 

Keith failed to see the maturing of his own personality, to view his life and accomplishments in a positive light. And so, whenever Lance did venture a question - how he had come to room with Katie and Hunk, how long it had taken him to get that knowledgeable regarding pet supplies, or if he had given his scooter a name - he stalled and didn’t know what to reply. He couldn’t understand why Lance should find these things interesting, even impressive sometimes. So he mumbled his way through some vague answers and let conversation ebb away.

Furthermore, he liked being around Shiro. A lot more than was wise, probably. Shiro was a calming and comforting presence, and he felt his own rough edges smooth down around him. Much like Shay had a way with animals, Shiro had a way with people. He made them feel safe. Lance was probably lucky to have been able to fall back on Shiro when he needed someone to hold him together.

There was a softness and familiarity between Lance and Shiro that was hard for Keith to witness. On closer inspection, he found that he wasn’t jealous. What ached in him was the desperate wish to have part of something like this.

No. Not something _like_ this. He wanted to have part of _this_. He wanted to be the reason for Lance to cock his head and smile, to bask in the warmth of Shiro’s eyes, to feel this warmth seep into his bones and blood and soul. Share it and give it back, multiplied. Yet he knew that even without the past standing between them, this was too much to ask for. He couldn’t intrude on this little bubble of fondness that was meant for two.

Caught up in these sullen musings, Keith vacuumed the rugs one last time. They were finished with everything, a day ahead of the grand opening. The chemical smell of paint and new carpet had diffused, thanks to rigorous airing and a small army of Yankee Candles. At first, Keith had been astonished to learn that Lance hadn’t gotten a professional interior designer, but he had to admit that the result was gorgeous. Teal shelves lined the walls, clothes racks and small tables displayed neatly folded shirts and accessories, and the space in front of the changing rooms was taken up by a large turquoise sofa. Cream and turquoise patterned rugs covered parts of the wooden floor, and floor lamps cast a warm glow in addition to the spots mounted on the ceiling. The drapes shutting off the changing rooms were teal velvet. It was a cozy and welcoming atmosphere Lance had created, and Keith was ready to forgive him the countless shelves he had to assemble and mount.

Lance flitted about, arranging and rearranging accessories and decorative elements, and Keith’s eyes were more on him than on the task at hand. He was so drawn towards Lance’s graceful movements, his slender hands adjusting the angle of a lamp here and straightening the strap of a handbag there, the tiny frown on his concentrated face, that he repeatedly bumped the vacuum cleaner against shelves and table legs.

He could see Lance bristle at every _bump_ and _clonk_ , but it wasn’t like he could help himself. Finally, Lance heaved an irritated sigh, stomped to the wall socket holding the vacuum’s plug and yanked it out.

“Could you maybe decide on whether you want to help me or just ogle? I’m trying to _concentrate_ here.”

Halfway between annoyance and embarrassment, Keith leaned his elbow on the vacuum. “Sorry if I’m not performing to your majesty’s standards.”

Lance was standing with his back to Keith, twisting the cord between his fingers. Keith knew that set in his shoulders, knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth. He’d been anticipating this moment - frightened and expectant at once. Whatever the outcome may be, this would finally open the path to some closure.

“Keith… ever since I met you again, you confuse me. You broke up with me, so there must have been some reason why you didn’t want to be with me any longer. But now, with the way you keep staring at me, I can’t help but wonder if you still have feelings for me.” When Keith gave no reply, Lance glanced over his shoulder. “So… what is it? Regretting your choice? Jealous that I’m with Shiro? Or do I maybe get this all wrong and you hate me with a passion?”

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I never...”

“No?” Turning around fully now, Lance pinned him in an icy blue stare. “Then tell me why, Keith. Why did you break up with me?”

“I’ve always loved you. I never stopped loving you. And I… I thought it would be the best for you.”

“You thought breaking my heart would be the best for me? Fucking hell, I’m _this_ close to fucking deck you.”

“Okay, hold on. Just a minute, okay? Do you remember the last year of highschool? When the only topic ever was colleges?”

Lance nodded.

“And well… you know my foster family wouldn’t pay for tuition, and my grades were too bad for a scholarship, so college was out of the question for me. But it was always a given that _you_ would go, right?. And suddenly… in the middle of it all… you considered dropping it. Talked about not enrolling for the fancy college your family had chosen, and staying here with me.” Keith turned his face away and closed his eyes. “You had everything waiting for you. Everything. A great college. A career. A future. And you wanted to throw it all away. Settle on some community college, and a nowhere life in this fucking dead end town. I couldn’t take this from you, Lance. I couldn’t let you sacrifice your future.”

Finally, he looked at Lance. “Letting you go was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. But I did it because I loved you. I didn’t want you to run into a dead end. You deserved better than that. You deserved better than _me_.”

Still absent-mindedly twisting and bending the electric cord, Lance had listened. In his eyes, and odd look that Keith couldn’t quite place.

“You broke up with me so I would go to college.”

“Yes.”

“Because you worried about me throwing away my future.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t want me to give up my plans… for your sake?”

Keith nodded.

“And what,” Lance said, dropping the cord and slowly coming closer, “What in fuck’s name made you think it wasn’t _my_ right to make _my_ decisions about _my_ life? What made you think it would be okay for you to meddle? If you were so worried, then why the fuck didn’t you talk to me? Try to convince me, reason with me, hear the pros and cons?”

He was in Keith’s personal space now, very close, and suddenly Keith realized what that look in Lance’s eyes was. It was rage, a cold and hostile fury as he had never seen in him before.

“And what exactly, you puffed-up twit, made you believe I was going to drop college solely because of you? I started having doubts about the career path my family had laid out for me for as long as I can remember. I wanted to get away from the pressure, figure things out, find out what is really important to me. And I thought you were the one who could help me. Instead, you ripped my heart out.” Lance let out a long exhale through his nose, trying to get a grip on himself. “You wanted me to go to college? Well, congrats, you succeeded. I spent the most miserable year of my life studying something I hated, without the person I loved, until Shiro finally set my head straight. Encouraged me to do what I want instead of following my family’s wishes and be unhappy with it. To look forward instead of dwelling on the past. But I still couldn’t help wondering why you dumped me. Had you found someone else, did you live happy ever after with some new love? Had I done something wrong, was I simply unloveable? Never in my wildest dreams I would have imagined that you were on some dumb, noble, self-denying crusade. Because you thought me so immature that I wasn’t capable of making my own decisions.”

Keith had known this wouldn’t be easy, but still he hadn’t been prepared for the pure amount of venom Lance spat at him. And he certainly hadn’t been prepared to learn that all the time he had read Lance wrong. Stupidly, he had assumed to know the reason for his boyfriend’s changed behaviour. He hadn’t tried to talk or listen to him. Instead, he had acted like a self-righteous brat and destroyed everything.

“You… didn’t want to pass college because of me?”

“No, you genius, I didn’t! Wanting to be with you was _part_ of it. Because I… I really needed you by my side.” He blinked away some tears that threatened to spill over. “It’s better if you leave now.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” With numb fingers, Keith stored the vacuum cleaner away and grabbed his jacket. The walk over the carpeted floor to the door seemed a mile long, and he wasn’t all too sure his feet would carry him. But he willed them to move. About half way, he hesitated. “Can we maybe talk again, later? In a couple of days?”

“We’ll see.” He didn’t sound mad anymore, only tired and heavy and infinitely sad. 

The scooter took even more attempts to protestingly come to life than usual. Keith’s mind was a million miles away, otherwise he would have paid attention to the increasing sputtering, shaking and coughing of the machine. Still more than two miles from Peppo’s Pizzeria, the ancient vehicle heaved its dying breath and came to a stop in the middle of a busy crossroad. Keith cursed and hastily pushed it to the sidewalk. With this distance to walk, he would be late for work, aside from not having the necessary set of wheels to do his job in the first place. He dug out his cellphone to ask Katie for a ride, but the device was dead - the battery must have died out.

“Fuck!” Keith hurled his phone to the ground and, in the millisecond he heard it shatter, already regretted it. A broken phone did nothing to solve his situation. He picked it up, pocketed it and started pushing the scooter along the sidewalk.

Unsurprisingly, Sal was less than thrilled. “You’re fired,” he yelled at Keith when he rushed in and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Please listen, Sal -”

“I said you’re fired! Get out of here!”

“My scooter broke down and my phone -”

Sal shook his massive head. “Buddy, I don’t give a shit what kind of excuse you have. I have no use for unreliable staff. Go home.”

The trek home was long and arduous. Keith passed a handful of payphones, and he could have called Katie. He decided against it. In a perverse way, it felt right to punish himself.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun that slowly rose behind the blinds taunted the bleakness that was inside Keith’s room. If nature had any sense for atmosphere or drama, the weather would be a cold, grey blanket of clouds, letting out an abundance of cold, grey rain. But missing the opportunity for some first grade movie cliché, the sky showed a deep and spotless blue. Keith ignored it and stared at the dust motes dancing in a sliver of sunlight with unseeing eyes.

The first of his flatmates to rise was Red, scratching at his door and demanding breakfast. After ten minutes of hoarse lamenting, an unnerved Katie caved in and fed him, not without hammering on Keith’s door and lecturing him about taking responsibility for pets. From the kitchen, Keith could hear her muttering to herself and to Red as she filled his food and water bowls and fixed herself her customary herbal tea and giant helping of organic muesli with fresh fruit. For someone who spent most of her life holed up in a darkened room, Katie put a lot of emphasis on healthy eating.

Hunk, who always worked late hours at the restaurant and got up around noon was the next to try his luck.

“Keith, buddy, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick? At least eat something.”

Silence.

“C’mon, I can fix you something, what do you want? Waffles, pancakes, toast? Or, like… porridge if you’re not feeling good, or maybe some eggs, or soup?” Hunk sounded pleading now. The prospect of someone starving themselves to death must be immensely stressful to him. Feeding people was more to him than a job - it was a mission.

More silence.

Keith buried his head under the covers and reflected on his shitty life. Losing his job was… inconvenient, but he could find something new. Or would have, if he hadn’t lost the scooter. Having the thing repaired was out of question - but without a set of wheels, how good were his prospects of finding a job? He couldn’t get just anywhere with his feet or by bus.

Worse still, the loss of his phone. He couldn’t afford a new one. He was broke, nearly unemployed and seriously fucked.

And Lance. Oh dear god, Lance.

Keith couldn’t possibly have fucked up more royally if he tried. Hadn’t been there for his boyfriend when he needed him most, needed someone to listen and stay by his side. Had instead cruelly pushed him away and let him suffer alone. A whole lifetime wouldn’t be enough to make up for it.

All he could hope for was that, now that Lance had some closure, time would heal the scars that Keith had inflicted on him. He had a promising business, he had Shiro who loved him. Loved him wholeheartedly, the way Lance needed and deserved it.

Keith wished them both all the best, wished them the joy and happiness that they deserved and he didn’t. He would be content - would have to be - in loving Lance from afar, in a quiet corner of his heart. Loving Lance was something he just couldn’t ever stop, like he couldn’t stop breathing.

Just like he wouldn’t be able to stop loving Shiro, now that he had fallen for him. Back in high school, he had crushed on the tall, handsome boy who had a kind word and a smile for everyone. But now the warm feeling in his chest had slowly spread into more than a crush. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with Shiro, his quiet smile and warm eyes, his strength and patience.

Although the Shiro who hammered against Keith’s door in late afternoon sounded like he was hanging to his patience by a thread.

“Keith, we had an appointment today. Unless you’re dead there’s literally no excuse for not showing up and not cancelling it. Now get your ass out of bed, pack Red and come to the practice with me.”

Red’s appointment! He had been so busy with self loathing that he had completely forgotten about that. Keith yanked on a pair of jeans, grabbed the next best shirt from the floor and fumbled with his shoes. The way Shiro recoiled from the door when he opened it told him that his unwashed, uncombed and unshaven appearance most likely wasn’t too fetching, but he couldn’t waste any thought on that.

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” Keith muttered. “I guess Lance told you about our… talk?”

Shiro nodded and opened his mouth for a retort, but Keith held up a hand.

“That wasn’t all. My scooter broke. And my phone.” He sighed. “And I lost my job at the pizzeria. So, well, not making excuses or anything, but I really feel kinda shitty. Still, I apologize for forgetting about Red.”

Katie and Hunk, who had been lurking in the kitchen entrance, looked shocked.

“Talk about a crappy day,” Hunk remarked. “Do you… want a muffin or something?”

Katie elbowed him in the ribs. “Hunk, food is not the solution to everything.” She addressed Keith. “You’ll find something else in no time. And until then, don’t worry about the rent or anything. The three of us have always made things work, haven’t we?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Katie.” Keith hated being a burden to his friends. But then again, hadn’t they always stuck together? There had been times when Katie sat on a mountain of bills her clients didn’t cough up for, there had been times when Hunk was between jobs. Hell, there had been times when all three of them had been so broke they had piled on the couch with every blanket available for warmth and lived off cup ramen.

“Sounds indeed rough,” Shiro threw in. “However, I need to examine Red, and I can’t do that here. So can you please collect him so we can return to my practice?”

Keith scooped Red into his carrier - with considerably more protest on the feline side, now that Red had recovered - while Shiro hugged Katie and Hunk goodbye and made them promise to come to Lance’s shop opening.

Then Shiro led the way downstairs and to his car, where Keith deposited the carrier in the backseat and buckled it up. Red voiced his complaints.

“I can tell he’s feeling a lot better,” Shiro smiled. “A lot more energetic today.”

“Hm-hm,” Keith hummed. “He recovered fast.”

They drove a short distance in silence, but Keith could feel Shiro’s eyes on him.

“So,” Shiro ventured, “you lost your job at the pizzeria?”

“Yeah. I turned up late because of the scooter, and Sal fired me.”

Shiro`s hand briefly brushed over his forearm, just a small sign of reassurance, the touch of silicone surprisingly gentle. “Do you want to talk about yesterday?”

Keith turned to look at Shiro, found no judgement or annoyance in his gaze, only interest and mild concern. He was Lance’s boyfriend, had certainly heard his version, should maybe be mad at Keith - but here he was, friendly as always, ready to hear him out. Keith decided it was safe to talk.

So he recollected the previous day - the entire conversation with Lance, the scooter, the phone, his sacking, and he didn’t leave out the darkened spiral of self loathing and self pity.

Shiro thought for a while. “What are you planning to do now?”

“Er, find something new?”

“Any ideas?”

Keith blanked, but Shiro continued to grill him. What he had done so far? What were his qualifications?Goals? Interests? Keith squirmed in his seat, feeling increasingly inadequate and poorly equipped to handle life, and he was glad when the practice came into view. He practically flew out of the car when it came to a halt and heaved Red’s carrier from the back seat.

Thankfully, Shiro switched to full vet mode as soon as they entered the examination room. He handled the growling but surprisingly docile cat with expertise and seemed satisfied with the results. With a final ruffling of his shaggy fur Red was released back into his carrier. Behind the safety of the grid door, he hissed and spat before turning his butt to them.

“He’s perfectly fine now, you took good care of him. Next, we’ll get him vaccinated, and since he’s so old I want to give him a regular check-up. What do you feed him?”

Keith told him, and they discussed Red’s diet. Shiro recommended a food brand for seniors that was affordable, and supplementary vitamins. In his head, Keith already scheduled a talk with his boss at the pet supply shop to bargain for a little more discount. He’d show her some snaps of Red and worry his lip. Easy.

As they drove back through the darkening city, Keith noticed something.

“This is not the way to my place.”

“No, it isn’t.” Shiro sounded relaxed, his eyes firmly on the road.

“Where are we going?”

Shiro smiled in a way that felt very little reassuring. “Take an educated guess.”

A horrible sinking feeling swooped down on Keith’s stomach. “Oh no Shiro, please don’t, he doesn’t want to see me…”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to, but he needs to. And I need to talk to you. Both of you.” One look at Shiro’s set jaw told Keith he was adamant. Arguing was fruitless, so he settled back into his seat and stared gloomily out the window.

When they parked in front of Lance’s shop, Shiro told Keith to bring Red along. “This may take a moment.” To Keith, it sounded terribly ominous.

“I don’t know how he’ll react to Blue. He’s not really good with other pets.”

“Don’t worry. Blue is a friendly little lady. She’ll have him wrapped around her paw in no time.”

_Just like her owner_ , Keith thought glumly as he shuffled inside behind Shiro.

“Good you’re finally back, baby - that was a damn long day,” Lance’s voice sounded from the back room, and in the same instant he emerged, in a faded tee and sweatpants and beautiful as ever. Hot on his heels, Blue scampered along. Both of them stopped mid-step at the sight of the unexpected visitors. The feline’s eyes were fixed on Red, the human’s on Shiro, full of questions and accusation.

Keith limited himself to stand in the doorway and scowl. He wasn’t happy with this situation at all, and if it had been anybody but Shiro to drag him into this, he’d give them a piece of his mind. But it was hard to be mad at Shiro, who mostly had reason on his side.

Blue slinked closer and made a soft _mrrp_ noise at Red, blinking up at him. Keith expected him to blow up in an explosion of claws and hisses, but the carrier remained oddly silent. Tentatively, Keith set it down on the floor, and Blue came closer still to sniff at it. She blinked up at him with another _mrrp_ \- clearly a command to release her new friend.

Keith looked at Shiro and Lance questioningly. “Do you think I can let him out?”

Lance eyed the ginger monstrosity more closely and gasped. “That’s not a cat, that's a monster! He’ll eat my baby for starters!”

To be honest, Keith had already gotten one of the largest carriers that was still manageable, and Red barely fit in. But a monster? Suddenly feeling spiteful, he set the carrier down.

“He won’t attack her,” he said and opened the door.

With big eyes, Blue watched Red emerging. She was a small cat to start with, but the old tom truly dwarfed her. Yet she was only interested, definitely not impressed or nervous. And Red looked… unsure? He sat down, ears twitching in every direction. He raised one paw as Blue drew nearer, but didn’t smack her when she booped his nose. 

The three men couldn’t help making stupid cooing noises. And Red looked up at Keith in a mixture of panic and delighted surprise when she started rubbing her face all over his chest.

For a while, the humans watched the cats befriended each other. Then Lance remembered that he was upset at Shiro dragging Keith here, and he fixed his boyfriend with a stern gaze.

“So, Shiro, Keith… what is this about?”

Shiro beamed, as if he was glad Lance asked. 

“Well, I take it that Keith explained a couple of things yesterday. And apologized.”

Lance crossed his arms. “So?”

“But I don’t think you apologized, Lance.”

“I… what?” Lance spluttered, and Keith gaped at Shiro. Lance, apologizing? What for?

“Did you ever care to explain to Keith why exactly you thought about dropping college? That it wasn’t about him, but about yourself and your family?” Shiro leaned his hip against the counter. “Did you ask him for his opinion, or for advice?”

Lance’s mouth worked soundlessly, indignant.

Shiro continued, quietly. “Did you fight for Keith, Lance? Or did you just turn your back and go to college as planned, to wallow in your pain?” He regarded his boyfriend’s hurt, confused expression with a kind of tired fondness. “I know you think I should be on your side. But really, you both fucked up on this. You both suffered. And you need to come clear from the past. You need to work this out.”

Lance still had his arms crossed. Defiantly, he said, “Why should we need to work it out? What’s done is done.”

Shiro looked as if he had to state the obvious. “Because you still love each other. You need each other. You wouldn’t have been so hellbent on hearing why Keith broke up if you didn’t care.”

“But Shiro… I love _you_!”

“You do. But you also love Keith.” Shiro looked Keith in the eye. “And you…”

“... Yes,” Keith whispered. His gaze flicked over to Lance, and he couldn’t help the longing showing on his face.

They all were silent for a while. Lance swallowed, obviously fighting off tears. His fists opened and closed.

“But Shiro… I couldn’t face losing you,” he managed finally.

Shiro pulled him into his arms and rested his chin on Lance’s head. “And you won’t. We will work this out. All three of us. That is, if Keith…” he looked up, questioning. 

Lance too turned his face from where it had been buried in Shiro’s chest. Still hurt. Still angry. But he held out his arm to Keith, and Shiro mirrored his gesture.

Keith thought his feet were glued to the floor, but to his surprise they started moving. It seemed like a glacial pace, but suddenly he found himself in their embrace without knowing how he had closed the distance. Found himself face to face with Lance, both leaning against Shiro. He hadn’t been this close to his ex for a decade, and up close he could clearly make out the changes time had inflicted on him. Faint worry lines that hadn’t been there, tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. A smattering of fresh freckles. But still so painfully beautiful. A hesitant, tiny smile pulled at the corners of Lance’s lips, and Keith smiled back. Shy. Hesitant. This would be a long and bumpy road they would travel, two steps forward and one step back, and they wouldn’t do so without breaking up old wounds here and there, without causing new heartache.

But for the first time since leaving high school Keith found something like a goal. Something to hold on to, something to pursue. Something that was worth it.

This time, he wouldn’t run away. This time, he wouldn’t end arguments and shut Lance up in kissing him and taking the argument to bed. 

This time, they would make it work.


	5. Chapter 5

“You can’t seriously want to wear this.”

Keith looked down his own body. His t-shirt and jeans had, admittedly, seen better days, but they were clean. That counted, didn’t it? But Katie, who stood in the hallway with firmly crossed arms, looked him over like he’d just crawled out of a trash bin. 

“Oh come on Katie, it’s just a shop opening. Nobody will pay attention to me anyway. Since when are you so keen on dressing up?”

Indeed, she was miles away from the Katie he saw most days in oversized sweaters and cargo pants. In a flowing white blouse and marine pantskirt, she looked petite and pretty. 

She sighed and straightened her glasses. “Let me rephrase. You want to show up, like this, to an event that is of utmost importance to your lover?”

“He’s not -” Keith started to correct her, but broke off. No matter if Lance was his lover now or not, he was important to Keith, and this day was important to Lance.

“Fuck. I haven’t got anything better.”

“Not even black slacks and a button down shirt? Mercy.” She thought for a moment. “I have some of Matt’s stuff here. He has your size, and I think he won’t mind if you borrow something for a day.”

Katie’s brother Matt was a geologist, and since he led a rather nomadic life he had stored some of his belongings at Katie’s place, the only constant in his ever moving life.

She disappeared in her room and rummaged for a while. When she emerged again, she carried a suit and a triumphant grin. Keith paled.

“No. Look again. There must be something… normal.”

“Oh, but that suit is perfect for you!” Shay and Hunk had joined them, and Shay snatched the suit from Katie’s hands and held it up to Keith. “It matches beautifully with your hair, and your eyes shine almost violet. Now hurry up, we’re running late.”

Keith felt terribly self conscious when they entered “Scrumptious & Sumptuous”. A small crowd had already gathered, chatting and admiring the clothes while sipping mimosas or orange juice. Lance was talking to a tall woman with strikingly silver-blond hair who was accompanied by the ugliest dog Keith had ever laid eyes on. Lance looked up when they entered, and his eyes widened a fraction. Still, he remained completely composed and civil, excused himself and came over to greet them.

“You look great in red, Keith,” he smiled and ran his fingers lovingly over the lapel of his wine red suit. He himself was dressed in something flashy and mint green. Then he hugged and smooched Katie and Hunk on the cheek, before he turned his full attention to Shay.

“Word of your beauty has already travelled to me,” he purred and gallantly kissed her fingers, “but I have to say, you exceed even my wildest imaginations. You, dear lady, are a goddess. Hunk is truly a lucky man.”

Shay giggled, pleasantly surprised. The other three smiled fondly, already used to Lance’s legendary smooth talking.

“I have a dress here that says it was _made_ for you. Would you do me the honor of trying it?” When Lance noticed Shay’s hesitation, he smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to sell you anything. It would just make me really happy to see you wear this dress. And if you like it… there’s always ways to bargain with me.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

At Hunk’s exasperated exhale he elaborated: “ I _am_ planning fashion shows, after all. And your girlfriend, dear Hunk, would rock my 20 foot carpet like the catwalks of Paris. Will you excuse us for a moment?”

With that, he led Shay through the crisscross of clothes racks. Keith, Hunk and Pidge however found themselves facing a tray of drinks and a smiling Shiro. He, too, looked Keith up and down approvingly.

“The color suits you,” he muttered conspiratorially while he handed Keith a glass. Keith downed the contents to keep his face from burning up and coughed. Lance complimenting him was one thing, but Shiro? His mind was busy enough trying to catch up with the fact that he was going to be given another chance with Lance. And he liked Shiro enormously, but he wasn’t really sure where they stood, and how things would proceed.

A silver mass of hair popping up over Shiro’s shoulder dragged him out of his thoughts. 

“Humidity sure is low here,” the woman grinned and snatched another drink from the table.

“Oh Keith, you haven’t met our property manager, Ms. -”

“Allura. Just Allura will do.” Her voice was deep and pleasant. She smiled, dazzlingly, and held out a hand. Both Keith and Hunk managed to mumble their names, but all Katie produced was a gurgling squeak. Her eyes were the size of saucers and glued to Allura’s tan face, her striking eyes and brilliant silver-blond hair. 

“Allura not only rented this shop to Lance, she also offered us a lovely flat for a really good rate,” Shiro offered while Allura still held Katie’s hand with a sweet smile.

“Yes, and I totally blackmailed you into medically treating and dogsitting my baby Laika for free in return,” she interjected. Keith looked down at the wheezing monstrosity at her feet.

“Are you still looking for a housekeeper for your own estate?”, Shiro asked innocently and kicked Keith’s shin.

Allura rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find someone. It’s not even that much to do - gardening, cleaning, laundry, groceries. If the person was willing to play janitor for the properties I manage it would be a full time job.”

“Any references or qualifications?” Shiro kicked Keith again. Harder.

“At this point I’m willing to employ anyone who looks decently clean,” she laughed.

A short silence ensued, filled with Shiro glaring daggers at Keith.

“I… um… actually I’m looking for a job,” he hedged.

Allura looked as if Christmas and her birthday had fallen into one day. She grabbed another glass from Shiro, pressed it into Keith’s hand and with determination dragged him off into a quiet corner.

The rest of the evening passed in a daze. Keith found himself in possession of a full-time job - a real, honest-to-god full-time job. Shay whirled through the store in a lime green cocktail dress that contrasted beautifully with her dark skin, and Katie stuffed a business card into her pocket with brightly burning cheeks. Her blush deepened when Allura winked and waved at her when they left.

Keith couldn’t remember when he had last been this happy, for himself as well as for his friends. 

The only thing that could make it even better was Lance kissing him goodbye on the cheek.

**********

He started working for Allura on Monday. They had agreed that he would start part-time as long as his two weeks notice at the pet supply store was still running. Keith had never done professional housekeeping before, but he was eager to learn. Allura was a demanding boss, but not unreasonably so. She worked hard herself and expected everybody else to give their best too. It was nice to have regular work hours instead of having to tear himself apart with two or more jobs. 

Mopping and vacuuming, weeding and shopping groceries kept him occupied enough, but his mind had leisure to count his new and unexpected blessings. Work was fun and paid enough he could actually start saving up. Sometimes Allura would leave Laika with him to keep him company. After getting over his reservations about her looks and wheezing, he had to admit she was a nice enough dog. She would trail him through the house and listen to whatever he told her with a cocked head, then grin in that way bulldogs do and let out a soft chuff that sounded like agreement.

In addition to tending to Allura’s estate he did all sorts of small repair jobs for her properties. When he had told her he didn’t have wheels to get around she waved it off - there was a mini pickup he could use. As long as he kept it in good shape and paid for the gas, she allowed him to use it in private as well. Having learned full well never to bite the hand that feeds you, he kept his bills in meticulous order.

Lance was busy with his shop and furnishing his and Shiro’s flat, but they could meet every couple of days. Shiro gave them however much room they asked for to nurse the withered remains of their love back to health.

Their first “date” didn’t take a promising start. Keith suggested a diner, but the very thought was appalling to Lance. He wanted wine, he wanted candles, he wanted a _tablecloth_. 

“This is our first _date_ , Keith, he whined. “You can’t possibly want to spend it in some burger joint?”

“I’m not into fancy food.” Keith lowered his gaze defensively. 

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, but at least a place where we can sit and talk in peace. Please?” Lance looked so hopeful that Keith felt like denying a puppy a dog biscuit. He thought for a moment.

“How about that steak house down Garrison Street? I think that one’s quite good.” _And inexpensive_ , he added silently.

They agreed on a date, and Keith picked Lance up on time. It rained heavily, and he hunched over the steering wheel, squinting through the rain and scanning the streets for a free parking slot.

“Good thing they offer valet parking,” Lance remarked. “Wouldn’t be fun to walk one or two blocks in this rotten weather.” He smoothed out some nonexistent wrinkles in his linen suit. Keith was dumbstruck. The thought of using the valet hadn’t even crossed his mind. A decade of minimum wage had turned him into a regular scrooge.

“Uh, I’m sure we will do fine by ourselves. It’s not a very busy night.” Even as he said it, Keith was aware of the lie. The streets were packed. Still, he kept going. He rounded the block and started a second approach. 

“Do you have any trust issues? This… vehicle isn’t exactly a Porsche. I’m sure it will be in safe hands.” Lance had crossed his arms and regarded him with a raised eyebrow and a mild air of annoyance.

“Yeah, but…” Keith let the sentence trail off.

“But - what?”

“You have to pay them. Or rather, tip them.” He was horribly aware of the blush that crept over his neck and ears.

“What, you’re too cheap for a parking tip?” Lance scoffed. It stung.

“Maybe in your position a couple of dollars don’t make much of a difference, but not all of us are that lucky,” Keith replied with more vehemence than intended. Lance’s thoughtlessness hurt, true, but it hurt even more to have to spell it out and remind him of it.

Lance’s eyes were wide. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware… sorry. That was shitty of me.” He reached out and brushed his fingers over Keith’s knuckles that had turned white around the steering wheel. “Tell you what, gas is on you, parking on me. Sounds good?”

Keith nodded stiffly. They pulled up in front of the restaurant and handed over the car. Lance squeaked as he got out and the raindrops pummeled his head, and without thinking Keith pulled off his leather jacket and slung it over both their heads. Giggling, they dashed to the entrance.

They had to wait a while to be seated, and most of it passed in awkward silence. They had seen each other a couple of times, yes, but this was the first time they had an official date, and the question whether or not they would be able to mend their relationship lay heavy on them. Hope, expectation, anxiety - the atmosphere was so loaded it inhibited any attempt at light conversation.

They were relieved when they were seated at last and given the menus. Keith just scanned it quickly and instantly decided on the cheapest dish. Lance however was glued to the waiter’s lips who listed off today’s specials, and ordered a complicated arrangement of starters and a main course with side dishes. Keith couldn’t help grinning.

“What? Did I say something stupid?”

“Nothing. You just reminded me of Sally, in ‘When Harry met Sally.’” Keith mimicked Lance’s tone. “‘Can I have a mixed green side salad, but with tomatoes and cucumbers, and a red chili dressing, and a baked potato with extra cheese -’”

“Knock it off,” Lance said, but it was without venom. When the starters arrived, he shuffled them to the middle of the table. “Help yourself.”

When Keith’s burger arrived, the meat was nearly charcoaled. He gritted his teeth and set to discreetly remove the most badly burned parts and bury the rest under enough condiments to kill the taste.

“You should send that back,” Lance said after swallowing a bite of his salmon. 

“It’s okay. Things like this can happen. No reason to make a fuss.” Keith shrugged and started to eat. 

Lance frowned. “Keith, we pay for this. You have a right to get served decent food.”

“Look, it’s not a big deal, it’s not as if it was inedible - “

But Lance didn’t listen and already waved for the waiter.

“Is everything alright, sir?”

“No, the burger is overdone. Can you please take it back and bring a new one?”

The waiter turned to Keith with an inquiring gaze. “Sir?”

“No, really, it’s nothing, it’s fine, I -”

“It’s overdone,” Lance repeated firmly. “Burned, in fact. Please, take it back.”

Without further ado, the waiter took Keith’s plate, mumbled an apology and retreated. Keith gave Lance a particularly dirty look.

“Thanks a bunch for helping me to a burger with extra spit topping.”

“What, spit?” Lance looked positively alarmed. “Just because we sent something inedible back?”

Keith snorted. “What do you think how many spit pizzas you’ve eaten in your life? Let me guess, you never had to work service industry while in college.”

Lance squirmed. He didn’t say yes or no, but Keith already figured. Lance’s family was rather well off. He cocked his head.

“Really, Lance? You never had to work for your college tuition? I knew you were a sheltered kid, but man…”

“No, I did work. Not much, admittedly. Or at least not as much as many others. And never in service.” Lance’s expression was tense. “My family threatened to stop supporting me when I changed majors, but Shiro helped me make up with them.”

Keith couldn’t help the smile that sneaked its way onto his face. “I bet he did. He could make anybody eat from his hand.”

“Oh yes, he could. Talked some sense into me as well when I was close to burning all bridges behind me.” Lance’s face was soft, reminiscing, his finger trailing lazy circles around the rim of his wine glass.

“He’s so caring. Always there for the people around him.”

“Oh, don’t get him wrong. He may be kind and considerate to everybody, but actually going to great lengths… he does that for the people he cares about. Like us.”

Keith’s mouth suddenly felt very dry, and his heart thumped loudly in his chest. But instead of lingering on the skittering of warm happiness he sipped on his iced tea and asked: “So, this is how you guys got together?”

So, instead of talking about themselves they ended up talking through pretty much their entire date about Shiro. How grumpy he could get when he was hungry, the almost shy little smile when he was complimented, his life long devotion to morning runs. They laughed and smiled and talked more in this one evening than they had on all their previous meetings put together.

Then they started arguing again over the bill, because Keith insisted on paying for himself, while Lance insisted on inviting him. Eventually, Keith got his will, and they asked for separate bills.

Some dates went better, some went worse.

Slowly but surely, they cleared old minefields, bandaged wounds, rebuilt bridges. It was painful, and tedious, and more than once Keith felt like walking out the door, or grabbing Lance and drown every argument in the white noise of lust. But that was a path they had walked down before, and it hadn’t ended well. So he resisted, and he felt - he knew - that Lance fought the same urges. 

But with every argument that they followed to the end, with every day he returned home wanting to punch a wall, they gained ground. Built more trust, learned to deal with disagreements in a more functional and healthy way.

Sometimes, it was a frustrating process, and there were throwbacks. But also, a tender fluttering in Keith’s chest, a spreading warmth of happiness. A soft look in Lance’s eyes, a lowering of defenses.

And Shiro, always Shiro watching over them, counselling, supporting. Insistent, but never pushing too far. Guiding them over rough patches. A content smile on his face at their progress, a warm hand on their shoulders. He placed the gift of Lance’s love freely and willingly in Keith’s hands, no hint of worry or jealousy in his features. On the contrary, he seemed honestly pleased, and the traces of expectancy Keith thought he detected didn’t seem anxious.


	6. Chapter 6

Some time after he had shared a first kiss with Lance, Keith found himself eating dinner with his boyfriend and his boyfriend's boyfriend with a brooding expression on his face.

“Somebody is in a sombre mood today,” Shiro observed.

“Is something the matter?” Lance placed a hand on his forearm.

“No, it’s just that… hmmm… I don’t know that when we’re - dating, or whatever, how that’s supposed to work? With us being three?”

“I thought we already _were_ dating,” Lance replied with a smirk.

“We are?” Keith was dumbfounded.

“It’s not that complicated. You spend time wit Lance. I spend time with Lance. We can hang out together, like now. We talk, and we respect each other’s boundaries.” Shiro refilled his water glass.

“And if you’re not opposed, I, too, would like to take you out some time.” Shiro sipped his water and let the message sink in.

Keith knit his brows together. “As in, go out for a date?”

The other two men exchanged a quick smile.

“I told you he’s a bit slow,” Lance remarked, but there was no bite in it. He addressed Keith again. “Yes, honey, we would both like to date you.”

Keith’s head was buzzing. Ever since they met again, the crush he had long ago harbored on a high school Shiro had grown into a full-blown infatuation. How could he not love Shiro for everything he had done for Lance, and for Keith himself? He had hoped that the sparkle of interest he saw in Shiro’s eyes was not just wishful thinking, but having it confirmed - it was almost too good to be true.

And there must still be some of the old Keith in him - the “act first and think later”-Keith, because before he even knew it he was leaning sideways in his seat and kissing Shiro, who made a surprised noise but responded nonetheless. His lips curved in a smile against Keith’s.

“I take that as a yes,” Shiro said after they parted. Keith started to blubber an apology, but was interrupted. “Don’t apologize. To be honest I’ve been wanting to do this for quite some time.”

“Took you three bloody dates to let _me_ snog you,” Lance mock pouted and piled more picadillo on his plate. He eyed the mountain of rice Keith had used to smother his meat and black beans and shook his head. 

“Keith, baby, for a Korean you sure can’t handle spice. I only used half the peppers that my mom’s recipe states.”

“Please _forgive_ this Korean for having been raised by white foster families,” Keith instantly bristled.

“I can make you kimchi for your birthday…”

“Don’t you dare! I hate kimchi!”

Keith wondered why it suddenly felt so good sitting in a kitchen full of aromas of home cooked food, bickering with Lance while Shiro smiled to himself and squeezed his hand, and he realized that for the first time in his life he felt like he belonged somewhere. It felt safe. It felt _home_.

“Holy shit,” he said softly in the middle of Lance rambling about the nutritious advantages of Asian cuisine.

“... I’ve seen a shop that has edamame, so we - what?”

“We’re really going to make this work, are we…” Keith let the words hang and shook his head, still not sure if this was all real.

Lance reached across the table and paced his hand on top of Keith’s and Shiro’s.

“We will, baby.”

 

*****************************************

Despite all the mutual attraction between them, getting close to Shiro was a lot harder than Keith had initially thought. He always seemed so composed, so put together, that Keith felt like he was the only one falling apart at the seams, and it made him keep his own guard up more than he liked. It was easy to talk with Shiro, even flirt, make him smile and smile in return, but it was sometimes hard to tell what was going on behind his dark eyes.

What broke the ice between them was a coincidence.

Lance had taken to come around to Keith’s place regularly, not only to see him but to hang out with Katie, Hunk and Shay. He refreshed the bonds with his old classmates and friends and shamelessly flirted with Shay.

On this particular night, he wanted to take up Katie on an old high school challenge, and they dragged out a dusty old game console and hooked it up to the TV set while Hunk rifled through a carton full of video games.

“Man, I had no idea you kept all this old stuff,” he muttered in amazement. “Why did you never play with Keith or me?”

“I need opponents, not victims,” she replied with a smug air of superiority. “Lance is the only one who ever came close to beating me.”

Lance looked up and saw Keith lurking in the doorway. “What are you still doing here, man? Time to pick up Shiro for your date.”

Keith frowned. “I’m supposed to be there at eight.”

“No, before I left he said he was meeting you at six. I’m sure of that.”

Keith glanced at his watch, made a panicked noise and started racing through the apartment to get ready in a haste. He heard the others titter from the living room and a shout of “Don’t break your neck, loverboy” just as he slammed the front door.

He made it through town in record time and arrived only fifteen minutes late. When it took Shiro a considerable amount of time to answer the door, his heart sank. Was Shiro so mad at him?

But the Shiro who opened the door didn’t look impatient or mad, but tired and worn and was only clad in boxers and a rumpled tank top.

“Hey, Keith. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you yet. Did I get the time wrong? I thought we said eight o’clock.” He sounded apologetic.

“Uh, no, actually I thought it was eight too, but then Lance said you were expecting me at six.”

Shiro shook his head with a faint smile and made way to let Keith in. Only then did Keith notice that Shiro wasn’t wearing his prosthetic. He hesitated.

“You were resting, weren’t you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I can come back later.”

“Don’t be silly, now that you’re here you will stay.” Shiro made an inviting movement with his hand.

Once in the living room, Shiro offered him a drink, and when Keith heard him rummaging in the kitchen he was torn between offering to help or not. He was so used to Shiro wearing a prosthetic that sometimes he nearly forgot it was there in the first place. Did you offer help to a one-armed person or not? In the end, he decided against it - surely the other man would ask him for assistance if needed. Shortly after, Shiro entered the room balancing a small tablet with two glasses of lemonade. With precise movements, he placed it on the table and handed a glass to Keith. Then he slumped down on the sofa next to him with a sigh.

Keith eyed the tight lipped expression on his face. “You’re not feeling well,” he hazarded.

“Truth be told, no. Phantom limb pain. I don’t get it often, but it can really kick your ass.” He looked down at his right arm that ended above the elbow, then back at Keith before he quickly averted his gaze.

It took a moment for Keith to puzzle everything together. Shiro was feeling insecure. Keith had never seen the scarred tissue of the limb remains, had never seen him without the artificial arm. He had never seen Shiro in pain and vulnerable.

He carefully set down the glass. “I have never asked this before, but how does a myoelectric prosthetic even work?”

Still guarded, Shiro started to explain. It was motor-operated and ran on a battery. Sensors picked up signals from the remaining muscle and translated them into motor movements. You had to train to learn which muscle tension was required to move the elbow, turn and bend the wrist and move the fingers. While talking, he relaxed minutely. He showed Keith the placement of the sensors, and Keith tenderly moved his fingers over Shiro’s arm muscles, felt them tense and flex.

“Fascinating,” he muttered. “Was it hard to learn?”

“At some point I lost count of the number of times I punched myself or broke glasses. It was frustrating. You have to coordinate muscles in ways they were never intended to. And the prosthetic is heavy. I got back aches and muscle cramps. But it was worth it.”

“So you move your fingers with your upper arm muscles?” Keith asked. “What do you have to do when you want to flip someone off?” He felt a minute twitch and laughed. Shiro joined in, and suddenly everything felt light and easy again.

“Do you think a massage could help you with the limb pain?”

“It certainly won’t hurt.”

Keith’s fingers stilled in alarm. “You would tell me if I hurt you somewhere, wouldn’t you?”

Shiro’s knuckles brushed over his cheek. “Of course I would.”

“Okay then.” He set his hands to work, hesitant at first, but when Shiro relaxed into the pillows he applied more pressure, kneaded hardened muscles, moved slowly along the arm over Shiro’s shoulder and neck, then down to his pecs.

“Can you take off the shirt?” he asked without giving it any thought when he reached the seam of the garment. Shiro obliged and only then, with a full view on his toned torso, did Keith realize what he had asked for.

Fuck, Shiro was breathtaking. 

And only in his boxers.

Note to Keith’s dick: calm down, please for the love of god calm down.

He tried to proceed with his task, but it was so terribly hard to concentrate with all the naked skin before his eyes and parts of his brain gibbering that he was practically groping Shiro’s chest. And it certainly didn’t help when a warm hand snaked around the back of his neck and dark grey eyes gazed up at him with pupils blown wide. 

It looked like he wasn’t the only one affected by their close proximity and the intimacy of the moment. 

The first kisses were chaste and soft, just a gentle brush of lips, but soon considerably more tongue was involved. Shiro kissed him with the urgency of a starving man, and Keith responded with equal eagerness. When they finally parted for some air, Shiro looked positively wrecked, flushed and panting.

“Dammit, Keith, I’ve been wanting this for so long,” he growled, kissing and nipping along his jawline.

“If you don’t mind me saying this, you certainly didn’t let on about it, with all your aloofness,” Keith remarked. “I was starting to get the feeling you didn’t want to get into my pants after all.”

Shiro deflated visibly. “I didn’t mean to -”

“I know,” Keith cut him off. “But it would be nice if you would occasionally show you have desires. And it… it would be nice if you would allow yourself to show weakness too. I know you’re strong and capable and reliable, and it’s part of what I like about you. But I would like a person of flesh and blood even more, you know?”

For a long moment, Shiro just continued to look up at him. Then a slow, slightly sheepish smile spread on his face. “Noted. I’m sorry. With Lance, I have learned to open up, but part of me still thinks I need to be perfect to be loveable.”

“But you _are_ perfect. With your pain, and your flaws, and your dark sides. Did you think I would like you less for them? I mean, you planned on not telling me you feel awful tonight, and instead you would have soldiered through our date instead of enjoying it, and probably I would have picked up on something being the matter and felt miserable too. But like this, we actually get to spend a nice evening. And… I don’t know… it feels like it got us a little closer?”

“It does,” Shiro agreed. His hand was still on Keith’s neck, idly playing with the longer strands of his hair. “It’s a long story, but I’m just used to caring about everyone else first. Like I said, Lance got me to loosen up a little around him. And I promise I will do my best for you too. You can punch me if I’m being stupid again, okay?”

“I dunno, I believe more in positive reinforcement,” Keith mused and straddled Shiro’s lap with slow, deliberate movements, holding his gaze. 

The hand on his neck dropped to his hip and squeezed gently. “Did you have any particular method in mind?”

He ground down slowly, so very slowly, and watched Shiro’s mouth slacken. “Take an educated guess.”


	7. Chapter 7

“I can do this,” Keith muttered to himself. “I can do this.”

He realized he was gripping the computer mouse so hard that the plastic housing gave a tired creak.

“You’ll do just fine,” Shiro said and rubbed his back.

Keith let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, clicked the online form and started filling it out. Occasionally he had to consult his papers. In the end, he managed to complete and send it without Shiro’s help, but still he was glad the other man kept him company. It soothed his fraying nerves.

He logged off and slumped back in his chair with a huff. “Okay, that’s it for now.”

“You’ll do fine,” Shiro repeated. He nuzzled Keith’s neck and added: “You know you don’t have to do this for us? We love you like you are. You’re perfect.”

Keith squirmed away from the tickling touch. “I know. It’s not that I feel… inferior to Lance and you. But I’ve been in a dead end long enough. I’m sick of it and I want to prove to myself I can do more.”

“I believe you will. And we will support you. Whatever you need from us, you will get it.”

Keith could feel a filthy grin spreading over his face.

“Right now I need some stress relief.”

**********

They had been dating for a couple of months now, and even if he was incredibly happy with Lance and Shiro, happier than he’d ever thought himself capable of, there was a nagging little voice inside of Keith’s head that told him his life was lacking something. Some sense, some purpose, that not even his lovers and friends could give him. Working for Allura was kind of fun and it paid his bills. But he knew he could do better. He had slacked off in high school and been rewarded with mediocre grades, but he could have performed a lot better if he had tried. He hadn’t even thought about possibilities to visit a community college or tech school. And back at the time, in his youthful stubbornness he most probably would have failed even if he _had_ tried.

That had changed. _He_ had changed. It would be hard to study at his age, more than a decade out of school, but he was determined to give his best.

The spark of discontent had been kindled into a small flame of purpose by a volunteers’ day at the zoo. Shay had invited all her friends to join, but only Katie and Keith had been able to make it. They had tagged along and helped her clean compounds and prepare food, all the while learning a lot about animal care. As volunteers, and since Shay’s charges were the carnivores, they were not allowed near the animals themselves. Still, it had been fascinating to see hyenas, wolves and tigers from another perspective than the regular zoo visitor. 

What Shay could offer them, however, was helping tend to a litter of lion cubs that had been rejected by their mother. Keith had bottle fed a tiny female cub, and gazing into her fascinating eyes that watched him back with both curiosity and wariness, he had felt something settle into place inside of him, a connection he couldn’t really fathom. It wasn’t the cuteness of her juvenile features. It was the knowledge that this creature, meant to live without contact to humans, was born into a time and place where she fully had to rely on them. That she needed those humans around her to not only feed her and keep her cage clean, but to understand and respect her. 

After that, he had dropped by regularly, learned more about Shay’s work, and eventually started asking questions about the career of a zookeeper. As it turned out, the zoo and community college collaborated to offer an associate’s degree. He spent long nights pondering over websites and booklets. The program would be expensive and time-consuming, and to top it off he wouldn’t be able to work full-time for Allura anymore. He turned the arguments over and over in his head, tried to see the matter from every angle, before he realised that this time he wasn’t alone. He had people in his life, people who cared for him and would be more than willing to help him. Shiro and Lance were both knowledgeable in academic things, he would be an idiot if he tried to make a decision without consulting them. Furthermore, it was very likely that he would need their help and support to pull this off, and it wouldn’t be fair to just dump this on them. 

Once he had fumbled his way through an explanation of what had been on his mind lately, he was glad that he had confided in them. They scrutinized the program, researched and calculated, pointed out problems and came up with solutions that he hadn’t even considered, and generally made it more than clear that whatever emotional or financial support he might need, it was his without even having to ask for it.

He may or may not have shed a few happy tears in the solitude of his bed. Only Red knew, and he wouldn’t tell a soul.

**********

And now, he was really and truly enrolling. Time to celebrate. Preferably naked. Lance would be home soon and could join in on the fun if he wanted, so Keith wasted no time maneuvering Shiro towards the bedroom.

Lance indeed came home soon, and indeed he wanted to join in. So eager he was to join in, in fact, that he got rid of only half of his clothes haphazardly before dive bombing straight into bed with them.

When they were all sated and drowsy, cuddled up and talking softly, Lance suddenly nudged Keith.

“Babe, now that you enrolled, Shiro and me have a proposition to make.”

Keith perked up and stopped running his fingers lazily through Shiro’s hair. He never stopped marvelling at how ridiculously soft it felt under his fingers.

“We want to ask you to move in with us.”

Keith could feel his chest going tight. “You… what?”

“Move in with us,” Shiro said and kissed his knuckles. “Live with us.”

“You can have the spare bedroom we use as a study. That way you’ll have your own space.”

“And as long as your training goes, we don’t want you to contribute to the rent. That way, you can save a lot of money.”

“Allura is okay with you moving in as a tenant. We already asked her.”

“In fact, that’s grist to her mill - she’s been asking Katie to move in with her for ages.”

“What about Hunk, I hear you say? Ah-ah-ah, I don’t want to give any spoilers, but rumor has it that there’ll soon be wedding bells ringing.”

“And Blue would be so happy to have a companion - she gets a little lonely here and you know Red is smitten with her.”

Keith sat between his boyfriends, open-mouthed, and whipped his head from left to right like a tennis match spectator as they took turns talking.

“You… uh. You two have already given this some thought, haven’t you,” he managed.

Shiro smirked. “I had to keep Lance from starting to furnish your room.”

“Such a spoilsport,” Lance grumbled. I would have made it so pretty for him. I have _great_ taste.”

Keith pointedly eyed the flamboyant abundance of throw pillows, rugs, blankets and tapestries that ruled Lance’s and Shiro’s shared bedroom.

“You’re a lifesaver, Shiro.”

Lance smacked him with a pillow.

**********

“Keith. Keith, wake up.”

He jerked awake. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

Lance regarded him with an amused quirk of his lips. “Sure, you were just trying to assimilate knowledge by laying your head on the books. Come on, dinner is ready.”

Keith shook his head to clear his thoughts. There was a crick in his neck and a trail of dried saliva on his chin. Damn, he had really fallen asleep over his studies. Again. He got up and followed his boyfriend to the dining table. The meal was ready, the table set, and a pang of guilt washed over him. Today, it had been his turn to cook. Instead, he had napped and left it to Lance. Again.

He had never really made an effort back at school, and getting into a learning routine was hard. The hand-to-hand training was more to his tastes, but he understood the necessity of theoretic knowledge. Still, it was physically and mentally taxing, more than he had anticipated. His boyfriends bore with it admirably - even Lance kept griping at his slacking off on chores to a minimum.

“You should have woken me up,” he said, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist from behind and resting the chin on his shoulder.

Lance reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s okay. You needed a little rest. I know what it’s like.”

“No you don’t,” Shiro quipped and placed a bowl of salad on the table. “You used to live off cup ramen and wear your clothes for a week until either your roommates or me forced you to eat and shower.”

“Lies. Lies and slander!” Lance’s mock outburst startled Blue, who had been napping on a chair with Red, and she stretched her back with a sullen ‘mrrp’ before slinking of to the kitchen with an irritated swish of her tail. Red followed her, not without glaring at Lance reproachfully.

Over dinner, they talked about Hunk’s surprise birthday party that had been held the weekend before. Shay had conspired with his friends to contact his family, and indeed a large part of them had flown in. They had asked Allura to celebrate in her garden, since her house had the most space, and she had gracefully approved of it. However, a garden party was one thing - half a dozen members of the Garett family showing up with shovels to dig an imu in her prized rose bed was another. It had taken all of Katie’s best soothing efforts and a couple of Mai-Tai to remove the twitch in her eyebrow. Afterwards, she had agreed that kālua pig was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten, and insisted on keeping the imu.

Keith offered to do the dishes, but Shiro shooed him off to bed, and in all honesty he was happy to comply. He showered and crawled underneath the blankets, listening to the faint sounds of his boyfriends clearing up the kitchen and softly talking and laughing. He grinned happily to himself. His training program was exhausting, they didn’t have much money, but they sure as hell were happy.

Days bled into weeks, weeks into months, and suddenly Keith found himself sweating and itching in cap and gown among other graduates, waiting to receive his diploma. From the back rows he could hear the murmur of attending friends and families. Slipping a hand into one of the sleeves he pinched his arm to convince himself this was really happening. He had made it. Once an unlearned worker, starting tomorrow he would be a qualified zookeeper. And he had two wonderful men who were madly in love with him.

Keith turned around to catch their gazes, and there they were, beaming and - in Lance’s case - waving wildly. Keith narrowed his eyes. He just hoped that Lance wouldn’t do anything… loud and flamboyant and Lance during the ceremony. He looked like he was about to burst with joy and gave his boyfriend a double thumbs-up and a cheesy grin.

Student after student filed up to the podium to receive their diploma, accompanied by more or less applause and cheering from the audience. Some just grabbed it and rushed off, others waved or improvised a little dance. Slowly, Keith advanced in the line and felt sweat pooling in the small of his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lance getting more agitated by the minute, nudging everyone around him and fidgeting in his place.

And finally, his name was called, he set a foot on the first step leading up to the podium, and hell broke loose. Lance had jumped up and was whacking cheer sticks together, and he had honest to god brought cheer sticks for the whole bunch - Shiro only waggled his pair sheepishly, while Katie, Shay and Hunk made just as much noise as Lance and grinned like this was the most fun thing they had done in years, and Allura forfeited the sticks in favor of sticking thumb and forefinger in her mouth and whistling as loud as she could.

“That’s my baby,” Lance bellowed on top of his lungs, “that’s my Keith, we’re so proud of you baby!”

With a burning face, Keith slunk up the stairs and over the podium, took his diploma from an amused dean with a muttered apology and scurried off.

His temper tantrum left everyone unimpressed.

“Baby, we’re all the family you have, and as family we celebrate you,” Lance cut him off and ushered him in the direction of their cars. They were going to have a barbeque at the beach, and the trunks were crammed full with food, drinks, lawn chairs and parasols. Keith moved a small mountain of tupperware to slide into the back seat and buckled up.

The first breath he took something was wrong with Lance’s car. terribly wrong. It should smell like salad or marinated meat, maybe a whiff of sun lotion, or maybe even just plain like car. But it didn’t.

“Lance,” he said and rolled down his window, “when did you have your car checked last?”

“Last month, why?”

“Did something crawl under the bonnet and die? Or did you spill a gallon of milk on the carpet?”

Lance only shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you forget a pair of wet sneakers under the seat?” Keith turned his head here and there, sniffing. The source of the smell seemed to be underneath the tupperware. He rifled through it until it hit him like a brick to the face.

“Jesus! Lance! Did you get kimchi?”

“Made it myself,” Lance announced proudly, grinning into the rear view mirror. “Wasn’t easy since it was my first try, but I think it turned out -”

“It has to go,” Keith said sternly.

Shiro kept his eyes stoically on the road ahead, chewing on the insides of his cheeks.

“What? Baby no, I made it especially for you!”

“Either the kimchi goes, or I do. I hate kimchi. It smells like a locker room floor drain. It _tastes_ like a locker room floor drain.”

“No it doesn’t! It’s spicy, it’s tasty, it’s _traditional_!”

“So is surströmming, and it’s disgusting,” Keith retorted and flung the container out of the window. Behind them, the screeching of tires and an angry horn could be heard.

Open-mouthed, Lance stared in the mirror.

“Allura’s car,” he whimpered. “It hit Allura’s car, and it… it… sprang open…”

Keith whipped around. Indeed, the entire front of Allura’s car was covered in kimchi. The windscreen wipers hurled around as furiously as fruitlessly, and again the horn blared.

“Drive faster, I can see the white in her eyes,” he said.

Simultaneously, Shiro and Lance shook their heads.

“No can do. You made this mess, now you can try to get out of it yourself.”

“Hey, what about sticking together as family?”

Lance turned around in his seat. “Oh, we do. But we’re not suicidal. Facing the wrath of Allura? No fucking way.”

In the end, Allura chased him over the beach with the cheer sticks - it wasn’t particularly painful, since they were the inflatable kind - while Lance and Shiro did their best to scoop cabbage and radishes out of the vents of her car and rinse it off with water. It would probably reek for months.

After everyone had calmed down a little, the barbeque - sans kimchi - was a big success, and they spent the rest of the day and the evening lazing on the beach, eating, drinking and occasionally going for a swim.

They watched the sun set and the stars come out, and late at night Keith found himself lying on his back on a blanket, staring up into the endless void, feeling the warmth radiating off Shiro and Lance to his left and right. They had stopped talking a while ago, simply enjoying the peaceful night and each other’s company.

All day long, Keith had felt a bubble of joy rising up in his chest, and it was almost at bursting point. He had to do something, say something, or he would explode. He opened his mouth without even knowing what would come out.

“I love you,” he said to no one in particular, let the words drift off and fade into the black, and it felt more right than anything he’d said in his entire life.

He said it again, this time swivelling his head from left to right to look at his boyfriends. “I love you.” Soft, almost astonished, but firm.

The words echoed back at him, duplicated in Lance’s smooth tenor and Shiro’s soothing baritone, their fingers threading into his, and the scene was so painfully cliché that Keith should have rolled his eyes at it. Instead, he felt like the last piece obstructing the doorway to his future - their future - had given way, and he was grateful that they had left it up to him to take this step. Had trusted him to eventually take them there.

The void wasn’t a void anymore. It was… space, space for them, with endless possibilities. He couldn’t wait for them to happen.


End file.
